Natale a Volterra
by Petals Open to the Moon
Summary: "Christmas in Volterra." A sweet one-shot depicting the married life of Marcus and Didyme, and that of their little son, on Christmas morning. Written for a friend.


**"Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, **

**and we are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, **

**b****ecome a child again at Christmas-time." **

**(Laura Ingalls Wilder) **

The city of Volterra lay covered under a fine white mantle of fresh snow. Not a sound was heard in the early hours of the morning. Even the bakers, or _panettieri, _had discarded their usual tasks in favor of the yearly holiday. _Natale. _The snow could not have come at a more perfect time. The summer that year had been a dry one, and the fall harvests engendered little for the people. October and November had passed, and much of December, and no sign of Winter's needed touch. But lo and behold,come _la Vigilia di Natale, _she had reached out, embracing her precious city in her cold arms. Townsfolk stopped in the square, gazing upward in delight. Little children stayed up far past their bedtimes, watching the wispy, little flakes tumble past their windows. Time seemed to stop, and _Natale _seemed as if it would never come…

About a mile from the city's gates, inside a beautiful, yet secluded _chateau,_ yet another little child lay nestled in his bed. Chestnut curls tumbled over rosy cheeks and forehead, and long lashes fluttered like delicate pine branches in a winter storm. Under his arm lay a stuffed bear, tightly clutched to his chest. His room was that of a much-loved five-year-old, littered with all the toys and books and _giochi_ he could need. His bed resembled a blue cloud, watched over by hand-painted angels that danced joyously across the mantelpiece above. His father had painted them himself. Each cherubic face bore some resemblance to the child that slept beneath. And near the window, next to his little wardrobe, a nightlight burned. His parents, though wishing to teach their son to sleep on his own, saw no need for him to be afraid.

The angels watched, the snow blew lightly, and the child rested in peace.

Scarcely two doors away, in a room twice the size, his parents lay entwined in their large bed. Fingers twined together, they lay in equally happy repose.

Marcus and Didyme had lived in Volterra for eight years now, the last few of which had been spent in courting and loving one another. Marcus had lived in Italy his entire life, which now spanned twenty-nine years. Didyme was his junior by seven, and had come "from a far country, across the sea," she used to tease. It was far, yes, but only about a day's travel from their present home. She was born in Skiathos, Greece, and had come to live in Rome with her parents at the age of twelve. By the time she met her husband, she was a lithe, golden beauty of a girl, and he had fallen in love with her almost immediately. They married in the traditions of their families, in a small church in Volterra, before settling down together.

Nicholas had been born in the cold hours of a winter morning, just a week after _Natale. _He was the most beautiful creature either of them had ever seen. Because of the proximity of his birth to the holiday, they had named him after St. Nicholas, or _Babbo Natale _in the tradition of _Italia. _Such a happy baby! Spoiled silly, yet not marring the willing sweetness of his personality. _Natale _was his favorite time of year, and he always tried to stay up until the elusive _Babbo Natale _arrived…

Of course, as usual, the little boy had fallen asleep before the cuckoo clock in his room chimed midnight. But did this prevent him from bounding awake in the wee hours of the morning? _Oh, ma non! _

As six o'clock arrived Nicholas began to stir. First his toes moved, then the wriggling of his torso, then his mouth as he yawned hugely. No sooner had his eyes opened then a sneaky smile beamed across his face.

"_Natale!" _he whispered softly.

He swung two little legs out of bed, sliding off quietly. As usual, he forgot the little slippers for his feet, running across the floor in his child's bed gown. He climbed onto the window seat, smushing his face and fingers against the glass. It was _snowing! _Really, truly snowing! He could not wait to ask Papa to go sledding with him… and maybe Mama would teach him to ice-skate this year…

Nicholas' warm breath fogged up the glass with excitement. He jumped down, running across the floor again. His door creaked open slowly. His curly head peered around the edge. He giggled upon seeing no one. In a matter of seconds, he was at his parents' door. Bouncing up and down, he knocked with a little fist.

"Mama!" he cried. "Papa! Wake up! It's _Natale!" _

No answer.

Frowning, Nicholas pushed open the door with a little squeak of effort. To his surprise, his parents still lay asleep. How could they sleep?! And on such a special morning? This must be remedied _at once! _

Giggling breathlessly, he ran over to their bed, climbing up like a little Capuchin monkey. His father's long limbs nearly reached to the end of the bed, presenting a momentary obstacle. Nicholas lifted his feet carefully, kneeling in between the two of them. He leaned down, sticky lips brushing his Mama's cheek.

"Mama!" he whispered breathlessly. "You're still sleeping? Wake up!"

Didyme moaned gently, hiding her beautiful face in the pillows. Her golden hair fell past her waist in its usual braid, and Nicholas used this as a sort of rope, tugging it gently to wake her. "Mama! Mama, Mama, Mama—"

"What are you doing, son?" rumbled a deep voice.

Nicholas turned with a start, then quickly scuttled over. "Papa…" he gasped urgently. "We must wake Mama. She—she lights the candles to the tree! Remember?"

A gentle smile creased his father's face. "I am sure Demetri has already lit them, my boy. Let your mother sleep."

Demetri was one of two household servants they employed. The other was the maid, Renata. They both held a fierce devotion for their little Master, as well as his parents.

Nicholas calmed, somewhat, but his hazel eyes still danced with excitement. "Papa, can we not go downstairs now?"

"Why not snuggle with us for a while, Nicolo?"

The little boy bounced on the mattress impatiently. "But _Paaapa_…"

"Is he up, already?" murmured a soft voice behind him.

Marcus reached over their bouncing son, brushing his fingers over his wife's cheek. "Yes, my love. Bright and early as a _gallo." _

She giggled softly, kissing his hand before sitting up slowly. Nicholas immediately launched himself at her. She caught him, falling back onto the bed with a breathless laugh. "Oh!"

"Mama! Mama, can we please?"

Didyme listened to the musical babbling of her son's voice, looking at him dreamily for a moment before paying attention. "Nicholas Donato… where are your slippers?"

Nicholas tucked both feet under his legs. "I'm wearing them, Mama." He grinned sweetly at her.

Didyme restrained a smile. "Show me your feet," she said firmly.

Her son bowed his head in resignation, ten toes peeping out timidly.

"Nicholas, did you tell me a lie?"

"Yes, Mama," he sighed.

"Say you're sorry."

"I am sorry, Mama…"

Marcus sat up, his long tresses matching his son's in color. "Nicholas, come here."

Nicholas shuffled over on his knees, looking down. Surely Papa wouldn't give a punishment on _Giorno di Natale? _He folded tiny hands behind his back.

His Papa looked down sternly. "Show me those toes."

Both feet popped out once again, but no punishment was due. No sooner had Marcus' long fingers captured his feet then a mad bout of tickling began. Nicholas shrieked, falling backwards with his head on Mama's lap.

"Papa! Papa, s-s-stop! Eeeee-!"

His voice cut off into a series of giggles, his tiny body wriggling around on the sheets. Marcus shook with laughter, lifting his son's feet and nuzzling his face against them playfully. Didyme held him still, planting an occasional kiss on his nose while she laughed with them. The room rang with joy and merriment, even after the tickling ceased. Nicholas recovered under Mama's kisses, only to once more bounce up with excitement.

"Now can we go downstairs? Puh_leeeez?" _

Marcus and Didyme looked at each before chuckling. "Yes, _precioso," _his mother cooed. "But let me carry you. Your feet will get cold."

Nicholas willingly consented to being held, waiting patiently as his parents slipped on soft robes of matching violet. His father turned on the lights in the hallway, leading them down the expensive wood staircase to the family room. The _Albero di Natale _stood tall and majestic against the backdrop of a large window with panes flecked in beautiful crystals and bits of snow. Its branches were tastefully covered in a plethora of decorations: pinecones, false chickadees with a speck of gold on their breasts, winged angels, presents, _bastoncini di zucchero, torrone, _and other such sweet treats, puppets and trinkets and enough sparkling lights to make any child's eyes glow...

"Oh, so _pretty!" _Nicholas slid from Didyme's arms, pattering over the rich carpet to kneel at the tree's base. The abundance of presents underneath made him look tiny in comparison. Marcus smiled contentedly, wrapping an arm around his wife's waist.

_"Buon Natale, _angel," he whispered, kissing her cheek.

Didyme turned her head, eyes shining. "Do you think he'll like the gifts we gave him?"

"He does every year. You have blessed us with an easy-to-please child, my love."

"If only his father were so easily pleased," she giggled, then sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I had _such _a time searching for a gift for you."

Marcus lowered his head until his eyes met her blue ones. His lips lifted tenderly. "You are a gift as you are, _angela. _I could not ask for more."

Her pretty eyes filled, and she kissed him. They were interrupted by a squeal from Nicholas, who had just torn open his first present. "Oh! Oh, oh, _oh!" _He lifted a nutcracker almost half his size from the box, his eyes as big as saucers. "For _me!" _

Didyme laughed merrily. "Yes, my dear little one. For _you."_

He squealed, leaping to his feet and running to them, glossy curls bouncing. He hugged their legs, gushing thanks. His parents knelt, covering his face and head in kisses, laughing at his infectious delight. He ran back, practically diving amongst his presents. Marcus led his wife to the cozy Turkish recliner by the fire, only a few feet from the tree. They snuggled together, watching their son wreak havoc with his little fingers. A sleek, plush rocking-horse appeared by the tree, along with boxes of candy, another, smaller _schiaccianoci, _new pajamas with stars on them, board games for him to play with others, and puzzles for his own amusement. Nicholas reveled in his spoils as the scent of peppermint and pine filled the room. A few weak rays of sunlight peeked in through the windows.

Didyme looked up at her husband just as the sunlight touched her. Marcus gazed down at her in admiration, bending to kiss her blushing lips. The kiss was deepening into something mildly risqué when Nicholas' sweet voice came near them.

"Mama," he chirped, looking up at her with a box in his hands. "Open my present?"

Didyme turned from Marcus' searching mouth with a giggle, looking down at her son. "Why of course, lovie... come here." She scooped him up, setting him on her lap. "Did you wrap this _all _by yourself?"

He grinned, holding himself up proudly. "Yes, Mama."

She kissed his button nose, removing the clumsy wrapping carefully. Nicholas' excitement grew. His mother lifted a little wooden figurine from the paper.

"It's you, Mama," he said happily. "Do you like it?"

Didyme looked down at it, her eyes welling again. Marcus had carved this little doll for Nicholas at least three months ago, as a reward for helping him clear away the gardens in preparation for winter. It seemed as if the little boy had spent the last three months painstakingly gluing blonde yarn, colored gems, and neatly-cut fabric to the doll, to make a likeness of his mother. Didyme was touched. Very deeply.

"You like it?" he asked again, anxious at her silence. Didyme dropped the doll to her lap, gathering him tightly into her arms.

"I don't just like it," she whispered in his ear. "I _love _it. Very, _very _much." _  
><em>

Nicholas hugged her neck, snuggling close to his Mama. Marcus watched the tender scene, his heart swelling in his breast. He kissed his wife's forehead, smoothing slender fingers through his son's hair.

_"Buon Natale,_ my dear ones," he whispered.

Nicholas peered up through his Mama's golden hair. "Papa, aren't you going to give Mama something?"  
>Marcus chuckled. "I have prepared something special for later, my son. For now, though..." He leaned over, capturing Didyme's lips in a soft kiss.<p>

Nicholas rolled his eyes in an expression older than his years, tumbling off Didyme's lap to play with his toys. She gave a soft moan, pulling away after a full minute. She looked up at her husband, her blue eyes dazed and confused.

"How do you do that?" she asked.

He grinned. "Do what?"

"You know very well." She shook stray curls from her face. "You shouldn't, you know. It isn't fair to your poor wife."

"I have never heard any complaints."

She slapped his hand playfully as it crept up her waist. "Stop it. You told Nicholas my present was for later. What is it?"

Marcus only kept grinning, his face incredibly youthful and glowing.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"  
>"Not unless you reveal your present for <em>me." <em>

She paused, her pretty lips gaped in defeat. "Fine, then. But I shall find you out. I always do!"

He reached for her with a laugh, and this time she offered no resistance. He pulled her into his lap, cradling her head beneath his chin. "Only after much effort, my dearest one. This year will not be so easy."

A loud cracking noise interrupted their jesting. They turned their heads, spotting Nicholas in the kitchen on top of a chair, a bowl of nuts on the table and his new nutcracker munching busily away.

Didyme giggled. "I must hide the walnuts. He will never stop."

"He will. Renata will be serving him breakfast, soon, and he has plenty of other diversions for the rest of the day."

"Ah, yes. You promised to take him for a spin in the sleigh."

"Aye." The handsome, dark-haired man gazed down at his wife, smiling. "And then I shall watch the two of you ice-skate, standing by with hot chocolate and wraps."

She nuzzled his nose in an Eskimo kiss, making herself cozy on his lap. In the distance, Nicholas' happy crowing could be heard over his favorite breakfast pancakes, stuffed full of gooey blueberries. Outside, the sun rose high in the spacious blue, reflecting off of the millions of little crystals down below.

Didyme sighed happily, kissing her husband's cheek. _"Buon Natale, _my love."

Marcus murmured a soft response, holding her closer. God willing, there would be many more such Christmas, with each one more fulfilling and blessed than the last.

* * *

><p><em><strong>For a friend of mine, Dani-Jones, who requested this little spiel on Marcus and Didyme's wedded life together. Hope you enjoy it, dolcezza mia! :) <strong>_

**Italian/English translations: **

**Natale_ - _Christmas**

_**Buon Natale -**_** Merry Christmas **

**_Giorno di Natale - _Christmas Day **

**_Bobbo Natale -_ Santa Claus **

**_panettieri - _bakers **

**_la Vigilia di Natale - _Christmas Eve **

**_giochi - _games **

**_gallo - _rooster **

**_precioso - _precious **

_**albero di Natale -**_** Christmas tree **

_**schiaccianoci -**_** nutcracker**

_**bastoncini di zucchero ****- **_**candy canes**

_**torrone -**_** a sweet, toasted almond candy (traditional Italian dessert)**


End file.
